


Dusty Chapel

by mindpeak



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-09-02 05:15:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8652394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindpeak/pseuds/mindpeak
Summary: A series of mysterious murders and disappearances at a honeymoon resort in Nevada leads Derek and Stiles to investigate.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first contribution to the fandom, and is still a work in progress. I'm insanely busy at school so I apologize in advance if I take forever to update. It's going to be a long fic though, so buckle up and enjoy.

Chapter One

   The road stretches out in front of Stiles, miles and miles of sun-burnt tarmac and sage brush. Even the occasional dust bunny whirls up while he hums along to the radio. He’s not quite sure what the song is, but at every note he utters, the frown on Derek’s face grows more “frowny”. Lips pursed, and cheekbones doing something unnerving attractive in the setting sun. Stiles makes a mental note to himself: stop thinking about Derek Hale’s cheekbones.

  The view is beautiful though - _not Derek, the Nevada desert_ \- flat plains bleached to bone white and cracked by the heat. Not even the clouds are safe, inflamed a subtle pink by the sun as if they too burned and crackled gently. There’s a few stars visible, like little street lamps dotting an arcane and inverted world suspended above them.

  Stiles wasn’t going to lie, he’d thought about a road trip -like this one- often; the expanse, how rare it was now. Sometimes he’d worry that the age of wonder was coming to an end, all the empty places being filled in and categorized, leaving all the mystery to fade away when the street lights flickered on: subtle stars. Then he’d remember that his best friend was a werewolf, and that werewolves existed, tangentially making him a complete idiot for assuming the world didn’t have anything left mysterious. In fact, he was sure the universe would never run out of ways to bring him pain.  
 

  Nonetheless, there was something almost lonely about the scenery. The way the shadows lengthened, slithering little insecurities trying to reaffirm his self-loathing suspecions: here he was, 19, and still never having dated anyone in his life. Meanwhile, his best friend had already fallen in love -twice- that's two (2) times, and seemed to be the secret fantasy of everything that breathed in Beacon Hills. Not that he didn’t support Scott’s ability to get ass, or meaningful and loving relationships -whatever- but he was only human and Stiles reserved the right to be jealous.

 

“Stop, or I will ri-”  
Stiles had entirely forgotten he was still humming along during his daydreaming, and apparently his inner frustrations had made his humming very aggressive...and loud. Derek simmered but never looked away from the road, pursing his lips even tighter as Stiles cut him off.  
“Or you’ll rip my throat out with your bare teeth. I know. Man you really need to come up with more convincing threats. May I suggest, look as constipated as possible until everyone around you feels slightly uncomfortable? Or maybe just glare me into silence? You could even try some mildly sexua-”

 

“Did you know, Stiles, that werewolves can survive a car crash at speeds of up to 160 mph?” Derek deadpanned as the Camero began to accelerate.

 

“Umm, Derek... What are you doing?”  
Silence as the engine revved.  
“If you do the calculations, that's roughly 14 tons of force, applied suddenly to your forehead when you hit the windshield.”  
Stiles could swear that Derek was smirking: impossible!  
“Hey, this face was a gift from the Big Man himself” Stiles made sure to properly frame said face with vague hand motions.  
Derek raised one eyebrow: “Splat!”  
“Also, my dad. My dad the Sheriff, Sheriff Stilinski, who is counting on you to make sure I come home as one 147lb, 100% organic, hunk of premium beef. You wouldn’t dar-”  
Stiles let out a squeak -a very manly squeak- when Derek suddenly hit the brakes to avoid a bloody caracus of some very unlucky animal.  
Derek’s hand sprung out instantly, ghosting gently across Stiles chest.  
Derek paused. He looked at his arm as if it were alien, detached from his own consciousness, and snapped it back to the wheel. The tips of his ears beginning to match the red of the clouds.  
“Dude, did you just mom me? You totally just mom-ed me!” Stiles cooed.  
“Big Bad Alpha has actual human feelings?”  
Derek didn’t answer, and instead turned the radio up.

 

Though he’d never admit it to anyone but Scott, Stiles was still intimidated by Derek, or else he would have gloated and teased him for a good ten more minutes; but alas Stiles didn’t want to die today, not yet anyways now that he had some concrete evidence of what a secret Teddy Bear Derek was.

  Stiles remembered the first time he’d met Derek, at first glance he’d seemed assuredly controlled and confident: secure in his muscle bound form and smoldering good looks. He had been terrifying, his silhouette tightened by the type of rage and pain at the world you keep silent. Now, Stiles wasn’t so sure he’d assessed him right. I mean sure, Derek was still terrifying, and muscle bound, and really good looking, but….  
Where was he going with this? It was just that sometimes Derek would reveal a soft side to him, roll over and expose his stomach so to speak...God if he knew Stiles was making dog jokes about him in his head, he’d be lacking one before he could think ‘Sit boy!’ Werewolves tended to not take favorably to the numerous dog jokes Stiles had lined up.  
Dog jokes aside, there had to be another dimension under the unrelenting shield of Alphaism, Stiles was sure of it. It was entirely possible that Derek wasn’t quite as secure with himself as he liked others to believe: maybe he wasn’t so different from Stiles, so unattainable. In fact Stiles had evidence. He’d noticed how obvious that self-prescribed loathing was a night a few months back when they had all gone out for milkshakes and burgers: Stiles, Derek, Scott, Kira, and the rest of the pack.

  Derek had sat next to him, and instead of hunching over his food -as if he were unworthy of even the small happiness of a burger- he took big hearty bites, and even offered to buy Stiles a third one after he wolfed his second cheeseburger down in less than thirty seconds.  
Stiles had enthusiastically accepted, which made Derek’s eyes light up. For a brief moment, Stiles had thought he might even laugh. Though, admittedly, Derek hadn’t exactly relaxed, but something about the way he had held himself was different: he seemed proud rather than simply guarded. Then that shadow moved back across his face, like the inner light had been left on but covered over by a heavy cloth, as Derek remembered whatever memory always covered him in his brooding film. It was the suddenly obvious juxtaposition, the painful realization that this was the first time Stiles had ever seen Derek happy, that made him realize.There was something there in his past, something surprisingly human, that Stiles couldn’t quite put his finger on: made evident in the way he normally seemed miserable around the things that would make most people happy, that made Stiles curious. He wanted to know, but Derek certainly wasn’t big on sharing his feelings, and Stiles didn’t particularly want to piss his fake husband off too much right now. Plus, Derek’s default setting around Stiles was grumpy, no need to further irritate him.

 

*   *   *

 

  “So I’m thinking we start with a nice long couples massage when we get there. Hot stones and everything. I’ve always wanted to try those stones. How do they even put them on your back without burning themselves? Is there some kind of special rock placing device and if so I’m still not seeing how it will maximize my comfort. I feel like molten rocks on your back is a good way to get a lot of discomfort... quickly.”

 Stiles rambled as Derek made the last right turn down a road that barely qualified as such. A yellow sign, illuminating briefly in the headlights, indicated a sharp turn and the possibility of falling rocks ahead. They were driving in a little gully, a river ran next to the road on the right and to the left a cliff rose, arching slightly over the road a few feet above the height of the Camero.  
“I mean if I’m going to be purposefully involving myself with whatever Nasty Nasty is afoot, I’d like to be relaxed first.” Stiles continued and Derek remained silent.  
“It’s good for the psyche to relax every once in awhile” Stiles added, making sure to aim that one pointedly towards the driver seat.  
Derek huffed, but didn’t relax his posture any.  
“Maybe I find it relaxing when I kill the bad guys? Have you thought about that?”  
Stiles feigned horror:  
“That’s fucked up, man. Not at all a healthy and holistic approach to your mental stability pyramid” Stiles mimicked the worried statements Ms. McCall had yelled after them as they had packed the car. Now that was someone who could truly inspire fear.

 

  Derek rolled his eyes, not bothering to argue. After all, Stiles had to micro-manage someone’s health now that he was away from his father and was no longer able (thank God) to cook the low-fat, low-carb, low-sugar equivalents of every food that had once been sacred.

 

Derek stopped the car and turned to Stiles.  
“Alright, before we head in let’s go over this one more time. You’re taking my last name.”

 

“What! Why?...No fucking way” Stiles somehow managed to say in less than a second.

 

“Because people around here know your family” Derek offered calmly.

 

Stiles glared, and Derek raised one eyebrow.  
Stiles knew his logic was sound, but wanted to protest anyways. Just to be difficult. Plus, since when had Derek been able to speak in full, logical, sentences, huh? He went to open his mouth, but Derek cut him off.  
“I know you’re going to complain about how ‘only the girl takes the last name’, and before you even try that remember we’re fake gay married.” Derek accentuated the word gay with grave significance.  
“No girls here. So shut up and listen.”

 

Stiles sighed deeply, but didn’t say anything. Derek had been right, he had been about to say exactly that, but he didn’t want to give him that satisfaction of knowing he could predict Stiles so well. Plus, Derek saying “fake-gay married” had been oddly adorable.

 

“We’re newly weds.” Derek continued. “We’ve decided to come to the ranch for our Honeymoon.”  
“To live out my husband’s life-long kink to fuck a cowboy” Stiles interjected, he couldn’t help it.  
Derek glared again, struggling to hide a little chuckle, and the fact Stiles had broken his stoic wall of “Alpha-ism”. He only managed to look endearingly uncomfortable, face contorted between a smile and a frown, and his hands held unusually tense, even for Derek, on the wheel.  
“Keep a low profile for the first few days. Just try to mingle and gossip. See what people know about the disappearances. ”  
The last two miles of the trip were made in complete silence.

 

*  *  *

  As they pulled up the drive they were greeted by a spirited women with what could only be described as a galactic smile: shockingly white and expansive to the point of being too overwhelming to comprehend fully. She looked like an extra in an old Western, little spurs twinkling near her heels as the Camaro's headlights shone on her. She wasn’t exactly stunning, but she radiated a warm feeling that permeated her surroundings. Stiles was surprised she felt genuine, considering she looked like a walking stereotype perfectly decorated to satisfy the expectations of any ‘city folk’. She even wore a cowboy hat that framed her messy brown hair.  
“Welcome to Dusty Chapel Ranch!” she chirped, clutching her hat to her chest with one hand as she waved with the other.  
“My name’s Bethany. It’s nice to meet you”  
Her eyes were stuck on Derek. He was facing directly towards her, smiling with that fake smile he saved for when he needed to not look like a werewolf. She looked like she’d just opened the oven to check if it was properly pre-heated to 450 degrees, blinking profusely as her cheeks flushed red. Stiles groaned inwardly, or thought he had, _was every living thing attracted to Derek-fucking-Hale_ , and Derek flicked him into silence without turning around.  
“You must be Mr. Hale” she managed, after just a second too long.  
Derek just widened his smile.  
“And where is mrs…” her lips twitched slightly when she finally managed to shift her gaze from Derek to where Stiles was waving dopely from shotgun.  
“Ah….well follow me. I’ll show you to your cabin Mr. and Mr. Hale.”  
Stiles grinned at Derek, his eyes lighting up with the little sparks of his imagination, as he mulled over all the horrible ways he could make Bethany jealous…  
“What?” Derek asked after a few second of Stiles staring and grinning.  
“Nothing, just appreciating my husband.”  
Derek looked confused, his ever-expressive eyebrows furrowing together.  
“Dude, did you see the shock on Bethany’s face. I think she expected a Mrs. Hale.”

 

The moment they were through the door of their Honeymoon cabin, Stiles’ face hit the pillow, releasing a muffled moan of delight. He was out cold within the minute, quiet snores escaping his pillow occasionally, still wearing his shoes: tattered and worn blue Converse that Lydia had told him complimented his skintone well. The same shoes that Derek gingerly took off him and placed neatly by the door, making sure not to wake him.

 

*  *  *

  Stiles couldn’t hear anything besides a dull hum, he hadn’t even noticed it at first. It was a vibration more than a sound, deep and barely audible as it passed through every cavity of his body. He opened his eyes.  
He was standing in the middle of a gully, a stream twisting around a single sand-worn tree, adding a streak of black to the bone-white and dusted olive green of the land: desolate, yet beautiful. To his left the hills separated, creating a portal that lead out into the expansive plains. There wasn’t any sign of habitation. The hum continued.  
A clear sky settled over his vision, filled with stars and a large moon. The scene seemed off, like the image had been processed by a slightly unfocused camera. Everything appeared disjointed, his peripheral flickered unnaturally and blocks of his vision shifted, as if he were looking at the picture through static on an old TV. The branches of the tree undulated, and he could see the sagebrush bend slightly, as the water in the brooke oscillated, disturbed by a force, but Stiles felt no resistance against his body.

 

_The air stood completely still._

 

Then he felt his teeth rattle, the unnerving low vibration rolling through him. He looked up. It was only then he noticed it, though it must have been there the whole time: something by the stream just behind the tree, blurred beyond recognition.

Blurred wasn’t the right description. It wasn’t exactly visible, as if a spot from the image was missing, but Stiles knew something was wrong. His body was on alert, and he could smell O-Zone. He tried to focus in, to pinpoint the exact spot, but it just became more hazy. His fingers felt cold, tightening in response to a preternatural stimuli, as his capillaries emptied of blood. He felt the force then: foreign and reaching, gently sweeping out, leaving everything it touched charged in a way that made your hair prickle and your knees lock.  
The hum intensified. It should have been painful except Stiles felt numb. He couldn’t feel anything besides that awful vibration, looping little tendrils of sound through every molecule in his body and pulling them apart one-by-one.

The object weaved it’s way across the stream and through the brush, umbral and yet somehow tangible, slowly making it’s way towards him. It lilted as it approached, or maybe Stiles was moving towards it. He couldn’t tell and he couldn’t move. Everything became fragmented and parts of his vision seemed to have just burned away, leaving nothing but little bubbling black spaces. He tried to breath, but couldn’t. The thing was closer now. He was certain he was going to die, more sure than he had ever been. The realization just struck him with sickening clarity, every fiber of his being wanting to run, yet he couldn’t move, he couldn’t scream or blink or breath.

Stiles jolted awake, feeling like he’d been struck by lightning, every nerve sparking, his heart pumping adrenaline through his veins. He went to sit up, but couldn’t. Something was keeping him laying down. He flailed.

 

“mmnn..mornin’” Derek said, his arm tightening around Stiles waist.”Stop moving so much”

 

All of a sudden Derek went tense. His arms released from where they had been wrapped around Stiles, moving across his silhouette to settle on his shoulders. Derek made direct eye contact, searching for whatever had caused him to be so afraid. Stiles couldn’t move, he just stared right back, watching the specs of green and blue highlighted by the morning sun in Derek’s eyes. He seemed to be in focus. Derek felt real.

 

Stiles couldn’t stop shaking.

 

“Stiles, are you alright?” He said suddenly, keeping his palms planted firmly on Stiles shoulders and sitting up to look him over for signs of injury.  
“You smell….different, and your heart’s beating a mile per minute.”  
Derek's eyes flashed red as he scanned the room for threats. Stiles still couldn’t move, so he laid still and tried to breath.  
“What happened? Are you having a panic attack? Do you need an inhaler?” and then a moment later, much quieter “oh wait, that’s Scott isn’t it?”  
“You’re an idiot” Stiles managed, feeling slightly better.  
He focused on his breaths.  
in…..out…..in…..out  
and remembered the time Lydia had kissed him: a little corner moment filled with sun and the way she smelled like rain.

 

He held his breath.

 

Stiles breathed out, calmer now.  
“Nothing, just….just a bad dream.”  
Derek still looked concerned.

Then it hit him, Derek Hale had been cuddling him a moment before and he hadn’t even fucking noticed. “....fuck” Stiles breathed.  
“What?” Derek asked. His hands finally released themselves from his shoulders.  
Stiles tried to re-focus. He really tried hard. Thank God he glanced at the little digital clock on the nightstand.  
“Just realized we have to go to orientation with the whole Brady Bunch in about thirty minutes.”  
Stiles was still clearly rattled, and he couldn’t help the words that flowed out of him, so Derek let him talk.  
“I mean they’re not the real Brady Bunch, but I bet everyone here is a blonde with a dream of having two-point-five kids and a white picket fence to surround their house. Church on Sundays, and BBQs on Saturdays. Good God fearing folk. Not that, that’s all bad. I just...after all you werewolves hangin around. I guess….I guess I don’t want normal….  
Also you said I smelled different. Good different or bad different? What do...er did I smell like?”

 

Derek looked confused, but smiled anyways. He had noticed Stiles heartbeat evening as he spoke.  
“You smelled like OZone, and something else…”  
“Something else? Come on that’s incredibly vague, use your were-powers, man. Take a big ol’ wiff”  
Derek’s nostrils flared, and his face hardened.  
“Well?” Stiles asked, flinging his hands above his head with his typical excessive expressiveness.  
Derek looked pained. “I don’t know. I’ve never smelled it before. I mean there’s your scent but there’s something else on top of it. It almost smells like you…..” Derek stopped his thought abruptly, but before Stiles could say another word he added: “Alright well. I’m gonna shower”  
He eyed Stiles suspiciously one last time as he lifted himself out of bed and padded into the bathroom.

Stiles sighed and turned to examine their cabin, he had been so tired from the night before that he hadn’t really taken it in fully. It wasn’t at all what he had expected from someplace in the middle of nowhere. The interior was all cherrywood, finished so it had a natural look to it. It felt spacious, yet the cabin only had one large open room, with a loft above the beds. The bed was on the first floor with two windows flanking the door placed directly in line. It was decorated similarly to Bethany, sickeningly Ranch, complete with two Western-style saddles mounted on the wall. Stiles sat still for a few more moments, listening to the shower run from the little bathroom, as his mind wondered.

If he were really Mr. Hale, Stiles would have imagined walking into the shower with him. Watching the way the water slid down Derek’s tanned skin, unabashedly worshiping how something so powerful and terrifying could also be so inexplicably beautiful: some amorphic substance ready to strike, or to protect, with the right touch. The way his eyes always sparked with humor when he smiled, and the way they’d light up when he saw Stiles coming to join him. All that stress and tension melting away until he smiled like he had that one night over how fast Stiles ate his cheeseburger.

Stiles sighed. Somehow he had managed to go from terrified panic attack to having a semi in the span of ten minutes. A semi mind you in the same room as his very own scent-sniffing arousal radar alpha werewolf with no qualms about using force; especially, when it came to shoving a certain someone against walls. Stiles made a poignant effort not to examine what exactly about his fantasy had turned him on (certainly wasn’t the being thrown into walls bit).  
He made himself busy, even going as far as to give a few half-hearted attempts at making the bed. He rearranged pillows, and unpacked his clothes into the neatly stacked wooden drawers with the hammered iron horse-shoe shaped handles on the front. Stiles was just starting the coffee when he heard the shower stop, and then a few moments later Derek's voice. He sounded hesitant, and if Stiles hadn’t known better, he would have said nervous.  
“Hey….eh….Stiles”  
“Yes, babe?” Stiles snarked back.  
“I...um..forgot my towel...and my er clothes, and did you just call me babe?”  
Stiles froze in place. Fuck. He was going to have to bring a very naked very wet Derek Hale a change of clothing and a towel. He gulped. Stiles was cursed, he was sure of it.  
“Just getting into character, babe”

_Dead puppies, dead kittens, dead puppies…._

Stiles thought to himself as he hesitantly knocked on the bathroom door. The door opened slowly. Derek was standing with one hand outstretched and the other held in a desperate attempt to keep himself decent in front of Stiles. He looked almost sheepish, the tips of his ears burning red again and head tipped down just slightly. Stiles imagination really hadn’t done a wet and naked Derek Hale justice. Stiles quickly handed him his clothes, trying desperately to hide the way his heart fluttered as their fingers brushed.  
What the fuck was happening to him?  
"Thanks, babe” Derek replied, half muffled by the door he had closed as quickly as possible. 

 

*  *  *

 

“Hello Dusty Chapel Honeymooners!”

Bethany greeted all too happily as she walked into the large mess hall everyone was gathered in. She wasn’t alone, this time she had brought back-up to help magnify her cheer. A man followed behind her, wearing the same stereotypical cowboy get-up, and a smile that was smaller yet nonetheless just as infectious as Bethany’s. He had rugged features: dark hair, almost black, and startlingly green eyes. Stiles noticed a ring on his finger, it matched the one on Bethany’s hand. She spoke up again.

“I’d like to welcome all of you to our little slice of the Wild West: the only laws in these parts are the rules of love!” She echoed with a proud smile, as she reached down and tangled hands with the man beside her.

“This is my husband of three years, Joel. We’re going to be your guides through this adventure.” She added a reassuring smile before continuing.

“We know exactly how intense the beginning of a marriage can be. How difficult it can be to satisfy your partner sometimes” She looked directly at Joel.

“You’re all love-sick fools!” Joel, practically beamed completely missing the glance from Bethany, and Stiles forced himself not to giggle.  

“But we also know that some little part of you is panicking. That’s perfectly normal, and Joel and I are here to help you get the best out of your honeymoon. Following the Lord’s plan can be difficult sometimes but...”  Bethany and Joel faced each other before turning back to their captive audience and adding in unison:  

‘If you put your faith in your partner and in God, anything is possible!”  

 

Stiles zoned out after that, it was just too ridiculous to be reality. He started thinking over the case, remembering the details in the three files his father had handed him. Three unexplained deaths in a year within a one-hundred mile radius of the Dusty Chapel Ranch.

The first victim had been an employee. He had been a ranch-hand who lived in a small cabin a few miles South of the Honeymoon cabins. Nothing special about him: born and raised in Nevada, high-school education, and a passion for his horse and his two dogs. He had lived a completely average life, and as far as Stiles could tell, hadn’t pissed off anyone. One day he just didn’t come back from a ride, and the police found no sign of him. They did find his horse though, or rather it’s skeleton, bones completely stripped clean and the saddle hanging loosely through its ribcage. He’d only been missing for seventy-two hours.   

The second had been a little girl, Katie. She was in fourth grade and insisted on spelling her name with a heart over the “i”. Katie loved drawing pictures of Monster Trucks in glitter pen, and her family cat Sanders who had caterwauled for three days after she went missing. Now her father spent all his time at the bar and her mother went out immediately after the body was found and bought herself an expensive new pair of shoes: sinful black heels with little gold crosses sewed onto the toe box.

The Coroner hadn’t released any specific details about Katie's autopsie, only a whispered phone conversation with Sheriff Stilinski, which Stiles had overheard. He had described her body as _melted into her shoes like she was made out of plastic._ The body had been found on top of a nearby mountain when a group of Free Climbers reached the summit.

His thoughts were interrupted by cheering from all the other couples in the mess hall. Derek clapped once, rolling his eyes to earn a smile from Stiles.

“Alright it’s time to mingle! Get to know each other. Go on, get talkin!” Bethany encouraged the room.   

Stiles watched in horror as a blonde women sauntered over towards him, her husband’s arm wrapped warmly around her side, with friendly smiles plastered to their plastic enhanced faces.

“Hi we’re the Kohnstamms” The women said, extending a perfectly manicured hand.

“I’m Stiles, and this is my husband, Derek” Stiles smiled as wide as he could.

“We’re the Hales” Derek offered his own smile, taking the woman's outstretched hand and shaking it warmly.  

The man, who was just as blond as his wife, looked a bit hesitant but eventually shook Derek’s hand.

“It’s nice to meet such an…. unusual couple” Mrs. Kohnstamm said practically beaming.

Derek stared at her and the warm drained out of him, he didn’t even blink as he stood silently for a good ten seconds before responding.

“Yeah, it must be refreshing after being stuck around the Stepford Wives your whole life” he finally said. His smile returned, sickeningly sweet and dripping with annoyance. Derek wrapped his arm possessively around Stiles, and Stiles did his best not to jump as Derek’s hand settled along the curve of his lower back, massaging the coiled circle of his pack symbol into Stiles skin.

Mr. Kohnstamm’s face hardened.

Meanwhile, his wife looked victimized. “I didn’t mean anything by it, hun. Robert and I have just never met anyone...you know, like you two, in person before”

Derek clenched his jaw, his eyes darkening as his cheeks became more concave than normal. Stiles knew it was about to get bad, and they hadn’t even been here for twenty minutes yet.

 

“I apologize, my husband can get a bit defensive” Stiles interjected, before Derek could respond again. Stiles knew Derek could protect himself, but something about the way Robert was standing made him uneasy. He suddenly felt the need to protect Derek, which was absolutely ridiculous.

“I like your dress” Stiles said, desperate to diffuse the situation as he stepped forward in front of Derek to touch the fabric. He couldn’t care less, and actually thought it was atrocious. It made her look like one of those girls in the commercials who sold yogurt to help you shit better. The orange fabric accentuating her perfect form in an almost clinical way: devoid of personality besides her personal air.

“I wouldn’t have expected orange to compliment you, but you pull it off well” he added, hoping Robert would start to relax some.  

Mrs. Kohnstamm seemed to take the bait (relying on stereotypes had done the trick). She dropped the pout and smiled. Mr. Kohmstamm didn’t seem so convinced.  

“Oh thank you, and it’s alright, dear. Robert has a similar tendency for being overly protective” she turned to him pointedly, laying her hand across his.

“Do you two live in Nevada?” She asked, returning to the small talk with the tactfulness of someone who was used to navigating tense conversations and too much testosterone.

“No. California” Derek managed, and Stiles squeezed his hand in encouragement.

“You?” Stiles added.

“Oh no, dear. We live in Wisconsin, but I’ve always wanted to be a cowgirl” she practically beamed.  

“Now that’s a dream I can get behind” Stiles winked at Derek, who couldn’t manage to stifle his laugh.

The Konstamms looked confused.

“Well, dears, it was nice meeting you.” She smiled, and Robert gave Derek one more glare before turning away with his arm draped over his wife.  

 

The moment they were out of earshot Stiles turned to Derek.

“Well they were awful”


	2. Stargazing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long delay, the holidays got in the way. I hope you all enjoy, and I'll get to posting the third chapter as soon as possible.

As soon as the mingling session was over, Bethany and her husband herded all of the couples towards the next room for the trust exercises.

 

“Okay everyone! Every good relationship is built on trust, especially marriages” She practically outshone the spotlight illuminating the giant cross, Jesus and all, hanging from the north wall as she continued.

“So we’re going to help you gain a healthy level of trust with some fun exercises” She clapped her hands together at the word exercises, making Stiles jump backwards slightly, neck twisting and arms tensing in a delightful mix of surprise and horror.

Derek wasn’t fairing much better, by the look of it. He was pale white and had gone so stiff Stiles was positive he could shatter him into a million tiny Derek pieces with a hammer if he swung hard enough.

 

“Let’s get started! Off you all go...go on”

 

Half of the couples looked fascinated, all smiles and excited chatter amongst themselves, but the rest looked like they had just been given an execution sentence as they slowly walked into the next room.  

Stiles blinked as he crossed through the open doors into the room, it was more of a gymnasium than a room, a vast open expanse of wooden floor scattered with mats, ladders, and bits of coiled rope.

 

“Umm Derek, what the fuck is the rope for?”

 

“I don’t know, Stiles” Derek hissed, looking practically frantic.

 

He was probably debating just sprinting out of the room to go kill the Kohnstamms when Bethany suddenly appeared behind him, laying her hand gently across his back.

 

“This is your station, sweetie” She pointed to the mat a few feet in front of them with that galactic smile of hers radiating from her face.

“This’ll be so much fun! Don’t you think?”

 

“Mmmmmyeaah” Stiles nodded enthusiastically, doing his best to look authentically excited as he pushed a petrified Derek the last few feet to the mat. Derek easily could have resisted Stiles if he wanted too, Stiles knew that, but nonetheless he let the one-hundred and forty-seven pound teenage boy drag him the last few feet to his doom.

 

“Maybe it won’t be so bad?”

 

Derek turned to look over at him, angling his chin down slightly in exasperation as he stared daggers into Stiles’s eyes.   

 

“Trust exercises! Trust exercises, Stiles”  

 

Stiles gulped as he looked down at the rope, “Fair point”

 

Once all the couples had meandered their way to their assigned mats, Bethany began to explain: “Okay, so the first game we’re going to play is easy, but the games get harder and more challenging as we go on. To begin all you have to do is stare into your partner’s eyes for one-minute without breaking eye contact. Easy enough, right?”

 

Stiles shuffled his feet uneasily, making extended eye contact with anyone always made him self-conscious. He hated the thought of someone really being able to see him, to be unable to get away, to be exposed.

 

“Okay then, begin” Bethany commanded.

 

Stiles turned to face Derek, taking a deep breath as he steeled himself against crippling self doubt and social awkwardness.

Taking that deep breath had probably been a bad idea, because the second he locked eyes with Derek, with the startling sunbathed forest captured within the hazel of his eyes, Stiles huffed the entire breath right back out again, directly into Derek’s face. He scrunched his nose, blinking a few times from the force of Stiles’s exhale.

 

“Oh come on. My breath doesn’t smell that bad, I just had a mint” Stiles hissed.

 

“Yeah, well humans don’t have the best sense of smell, and believe me, you do. Smell that is.”

 

“I’m going to fake divorce you if you keep insulting me like this”

 

Derek didn’t say anything, opting to make the eye contact all the more intense.

“Time” Bethany called, and Stiles broke the eye contact asap. He stood there awkwardly, looking down at the mat, the wood paneling of the floor, anything but Derek.

 

“Alright, the next game involves these” She held up a white cloth gleefully in her hand.

“Blindfolds!”

 

The universe was aligned against Stiles, he was fucking sure of it, but hey at least there wouldn’t be any eye contact this round.

 

“Alright my little power couples, pick which one of you will be blindfolded first.” Bethany pressed her palms together in excitement from the mere concept of the intense love and trust that was apparently about to be expressed. Stiles suspected it would just be a lot of tripping and pain on his part.

 

“Me” Derek announced, handing Stiles the blindfold resolutely.

 

“Why the fuck?”

 

“Because you’ll trip over your own feet in the first five seconds. I can’t hold you up the whole time, whereas I can at least stay standing.” He folded his arms across his chest, daring Stiles to disagree. Fine, challenge accepted.

 

“Okay douchewaffle, I’ll have you know that I’m very good at walking, and standing, and balancing, just being upright in general” Stiles did his best to sound confident as he spoke. Definitely not thinking back to the first time he had tried to ride a bike and had ended up stuck in bed for two days after a visit to the ER and five stitches later.

 

“Just blindfold me, Stiles.”

Derek bowed his head slightly, inviting him to tie the fabric across his eyes while Stiles did his best not to feel extremely aroused at the sight of something so powerful and feral submitting so freely and easily to him. He gulped, fingers slipping slightly as he tied the ends of the fabric firmly behind his head, careful not to catch any of Derek’s hair in the knot.

“There” Stiles said proudly, albeit a bit shakily, as Derek shook his head testing the effectiveness of the blindfold.

 

“Good job” He said with just enough put-on surprise to annoy Stiles.  

 

“I’m not a failure at everything you know”

 

“I don’t think you’re a failure at everything Stiles.”

“Well maybe Lacrosse.” He added a second later, the beginnings of a smile forming on his lips.   

 

Stiles huffed indignantly, shoving Derek in a half-hearted attempt to get that fucking underwear model of a man to stumble: just one moment where he wasn’t suave and elegant and brooding. Stiles failed miserably.

“Hey, I’ll have you know that I once won States. Singlehandedly!”

Derek hadn’t even moved from the force of the push, but turned around to smile at Stiles, a snarky comeback forming on his lips. Luckily it was at that moment that Bethany choose to interject her usual cheer into the room.

 

“Alright, your objective is to walk your blindfolded partner around the room, take them wherever you want, let them experience the environment, but make sure you support them along the way. Remember, trust goes both ways.”  

 

With that said Stiles was left standing next to a blindfolded Derek Hale, looking just as grumpy as ever, without the slightest idea of what to do. He glanced over to one of the other couples, a petite brunette wearing a yellow sundress and her classically handsome husband: blond hair, blue eyes, and stubble accentuating his jaw. He had his hand on her lower back, their shoulders pressed together, as he guided her towards a potted plant near the edge of the room.

She laughed, a genuine youth and excitement lighting her posture, as her hands grazed across the leaves. Her figure glowing with curiosity as she continued to caress the plant, the completely benign object becoming something exotic, unknown, and new without the visual proof of what she was touching. That gave him an idea...a wonderful idea.

Stiles steeled himself and cozied up against Derek with an evil smile, pushing down his fear of bodily harm as he placed his hand on Derek’s lower back and pressed the corner of his body firmly into Derek’s side. The muscles in his back convulsed when Stiles's fingers planted themselves resolutely in place, encouraging him slightly at having made him jump. The little victories are all that mattered.

He led Derek slowly towards the back of the gym, where two balance beams had been strategically placed by Bethany to inflict maximum pain on the particularly “connected” and “trusting” couples.  

 

“Step up. It’s not too high.” Stiles announced once they had arrived.

 

“Stiles, where did you take me?”

 

‘Just step up, sourwolf.”

 

“Stiles?”

That one sounded a bit uncertain. Nonetheless he hesitantly lifted his leg, raising his foot almost to his waist as he tried to figure out where to step. It took every little bit of strength within him not to laugh at the sight: Derek holding his foot comically high to step onto the balance beam that was only half a foot off the ground.

 

“You good there, big guy” Stiles chuckled.

 

“Fine” Derek gritted out, doing his best to look calm and powerful though Stiles could see the blush creeping across his cheeks, hiding in creeping rosie pools under the stubble of his jaw. He jumped again when his foot finally made contact with the beam, but Stiles didn’t comment. Derek easily mounted the beam once his first foot was on, sliding on gracefully with Stiles’s hand still firmly placed on his back to steady him just in case.

 

“Okay, now spin around and walk backwards”

 

“No. Fucking. Way.”

 

“Please, for me. For your honey-bunches-of-oats. Your baby, you’re amazing husband. Come on, it’ll be funny”

 

Derek let his head sink to his chest, sighing heavily as he gingerly turned around.

 

“Anything to make the nicknames stop.”

 

“I know you secretly love them, baby”

 

Suddenly Derek’s hand sprang out to steady himself, but it wasn’t enough as he began to fall forward.

 

“Fuck” Stiles tried to grab his hand to prevent disaster when Derek stopped his descent easily chuckling to himself.

 

“You’re too easy to scare, Stiles”

 

“Yeah well, you’re a dick.”  

 

                                                                         *  *  *

 

The rest of the exercises went exactly as expected: Stiles nearly died when it was his turn to be blindfolded. Derek had, had to practically carry him back to safety after Stiles jumped back in horror when Derek made him touch the tip of a chapstick, which he insisted fervently had to have been someone’s private parts. Then there were the typical trust falls, which consisted of Stiles falling back into a sturdy wall of muscle, and Derek falling back as gently as possible into a very determined Stiles who stumbled every single goddamn time despite his honor worthy efforts. Most importantly, it seemed the ropes had just been planted there to terrify everyone.

 

It had been nearly a half an hour when Bethany finally announced:

“Okay it’s time for the finale. It’s a combination of things, a little recipe of my own imagining” Bethany scrunched her nose up in happiness as she continued, the excitement obvious on her features.

“The rules are simple: one partner is blindfolded then climbs the ladder and is a given a choice. They can choose to answer one question chosen by their partner completely truthfully, or to take the fall into their partner’s arms. Each person must go at least four times”  

 

“I get to go first this round” Stiles said the instant Bethany finished speaking, pointedly handing the blindfold to Derek the way he had done to Stiles earlier.

 

Stiles was about to continue on with an entire list of arguments he had prepared as to why he should get to go first this time, when he felt the gentle slip of the fabric pulling darkness over his eyes. He dipped his head so Derek could tie it easily, feeling his heart flutter much faster than was acceptable. Derek didn’t seem to notice, and instead took Stiles’s hand gently in his own and placed it on the ladder, letting his fingers ghost over Stiles’s as he withdrew. He stood completely still as Derek silently walked behind him, taking his other hand in his and once again guiding it towards the ladder until Stiles gripped the cool wood.   

 

“Go on, climb up.”

“Uhhh yeah, okay….sure” Stiles took a deep breath, and then lifted himself up the first two rungs. The second his feet left the ground he was immediately confident he was hanging above an endless abyss, dropping down and down and down forever beneath the only grip he had on the tangible: the next rung of the ladder.

“That’s high enough, Stiles” Derek’s voice cut through the darkness, and Stiles realized he had lost track of how high he had actually climbed.

 

“Okay, go ahead and ask your first question!”

Stiles could hear the expanse of Bethany’s joy in her voice, she was undoubtedly relishing in the development of strong relationships via her twisted means of terror and mental strife. Speaking of which, Stiles was preparing for the worst. Derek was probably going to ask him something terrifying, like why Stiles hadn’t stopped smelling of lust and sexual arousal the whole trip, what his worst fear was, his most embarrassing moment, or anything to do with his mom.

 

“What’s your favorite color?” Derek said very seriously.

 

Stiles almost laughed, and then almost fell by using his body to express an unnecessary amount of exasperation.

“Really, Derek? That’s the best thing you could think of?”

 

Derek didn’t answer him.

 

“It’s blue”  

 

Stiles blinked when he removed the blindfold, slowly letting the world come back into focus as his eyes readjusted to the light. Then he looked down at the ground that was incredibly close to where he was standing. In fact, he wasn’t even halfway up the ladder.

 

“Derek, I wasn’t even two-feet off the ground... and there’s a mat”

Stiles gestured vaguely: “Why?”  

 

“It was high enough.”

 

“For fucks sake Derek, you even managed to suck the fun out of falling from uncertain heights to your death. What’s next? Kittens are dangerous and puppies are killers”

 

“You can never be too cautious, Stiles”

 

“How’s this for cautious?”

 

Stiles hopped off backwards from the ladder, and did his best to hide the momentary collision of his feet that caused him to nearly trip and fall onto his face. Derek noticed, of course, and sighed dramatically, holding his hand out for the blindfold with that “I-told-you-so” drama queen look plastered about his posture.  

 

Derek climbed the ladder with ease, clambering up until he was perched on the very last rung. Stiles meanwhile had been mulling over acceptable and snarky questions to ask and thought he had finally settled on one:

“What’s your favorite color?”

 

Derek paused at the top of the ladder for about half a second before letting himself fall backwards onto the mat. He huffed out a bit of air as his back hit the mat.

 

“Seriously? You wouldn’t answer that question?”

 

Derek calmly untied the blindfold and was about to tie it around Stiles head again, but Stiles grabbed the fabric and threw it on the ground.

 

“Derek, how are we supposed to act married if you won’t even tell me what your favorite color is, huh? I know you’re not keen on sharing and all, but I’m doing my best here to not push you out of your comfort zone, but really, colors are too much?”

 

“It was a boring question.”

 

Stiles mouth dropped open as his hands rose to imitate strangling Derek

“You. Fucking. Asked. Me. First.”   

 

“Further proof to your claim that I’m boring then.”

 

“God, you’re lucky that you’re so pretty.”

 

                                                                            *  *  *

The rest of the trust exercise went precisely as Stiles imagined they would. Derek asked Stiles the most boring questions under the sun, and Stiles asked them right back to the same impact each time:   

“Favorite pizza topping?”

Thud.

 

“Favorite movie?”

Thud.

 

“Name a book that made you cry?”

Pause, “hmmmm”. Thud.

 

After the trust exercises came dinner. It felt odd to Stiles, eating dinner when the sun was still up and shining, but hey that’s how summer worked. He sat hunched in silence over his plate, picking absent-mindedly at his pizza that room service had brought to their cabin as Derek shuffled about doing God knows what. He was starting to go insane, the silence was not an acceptable place: far too many opportunities to reflect on his own mind and many failings as a person. Nope, one-thousand percent a bad idea to do that.

 

“We can’t do any investigating tonight, and mingling clearly didn’t work out so well for us thus far” Stiles grumbled, and Derek raised his eyebrow in question.

 

“Bethany runs a goddamn tight ship so it looks like we’re stuck on our Lovers Journey, for tonight at least. Might as well make the best of it” Stiles picked up the brochures that Bethany had handed out at the end of Hell, each advertising a different activity, and looked them over.

 

“Hey, we can go learn how to basketweave, or channel our spiritual side and meditate by the river at sunset. Sounds kinda fun, right? Maybe….or not? Yeah, let’s go with not”

Derek just looked blankly at him, as if the statement didn’t even deserve a response.

 

“No, okay then I didn’t think so, not your style anyways man. Let’s try to find something a bit more ‘I’m a brooding alpha werewolf who hates laughter, smiles and generally anything in eyesight besides my beloved leather jacket and darkness.’ Hey check it out, there’s a cool hike in an hour or so to go explore the highlands, you might even be able to find some rabbits to mangle, or we could go for a ride through the canyon on horseback before dinner. Sounds romantic!”

 

Stiles trailed off, watching from the bed, his pizza slice held forgotten in his hand, as Derek continued to silently unpack his bag. He had clearly still been listening to Stiles -ears twitching slightly at his words- despite the intense focus he had on folding his shirts, making sure each edge matched snugly without creasing. His hands moved quickly across the fabric: smoothing edges and molding the tension evenly across every shirt with precise movements. He huffed approvingly when he piled a few newly folded shirts into a neat pile, picking them up gently as he turned towards the drawer behind Stiles.

“Hike” was all Derek said, as he walked past Stiles who still hadn’t managed to get over the shock of watching Derek fold his shirts with as much care as if he were handling his new born child.  

“Man, I really thought your whole brooding and silent thing was just to intimidate Scott and I,  and well, the rest of Beacon Hills, but you really don’t like talking do you?” Naturally Derek didn’t respond, so Stiles let his thoughts spill out into the room:   
“I mean after watching you avoid every single personal question I asked I’m starting to think it has more to do with a passionate opposition to emotions and the act of sharing them.”

 

Derek silently continued to place his pile of shirts in the drawer, and Stiles suddenly became aware that he had a bad habit of continuing to talk when he felt awkward.

 

“Not that it’s a bad thing, I’m a bit introverted myself sometimes. It’s just that I’m going to go crazy if you don’t start talking just a tiny bit more. Bethany took all our phones, so I can’t talk to Scott or anyone. The world could have ended for all I know. I need some banter man, keep the convos spicy, because right now it’s like trying to talk to a really handsome and antisocial brick wall, and I’m going to go insane if I don’t have someone to rant to about all of these crazy people we’re surrounded by.”

Derek sighed, turning to face Stiles as the muscle in his jaw set “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, man. Tell me about yourself. I don’t even know your favorite color, or really just generally anything about you besides the whole supernatural wolf part.”  Stiles imitated claws and pretended to bite down on invisible prey, “grrr” he said for emphasis.  

Derek went stiff, every muscle gathering tension and pulling back up into that intimidating silhouette Stiles knew so well. “There’s not much to know” Derek said roughly, stalking out of the bedroom and into the kitchen snatching Stiles’s plate along the way.  

Stiles felt annoyance spreading through him, growing tingles warming his limbs, engulfing him with a rash courage that swept away his normal social awkwardness.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Derek! Stop being so damn closed off all the goddamn time. We’ve known each other for two years now. I’ve saved your ass multiple times, nearly died for your pack, and you act like a little bitch every time anyone confronts you with the simplest social situation. Would it kill you to share a little? Trust runs both ways you know.”

_Wow that had come out way harsher than intended._ Stiles cringed _._

Derek slammed the refrigerator door, and stalked back into the bedroom throwing himself down on the bed in front of Stiles with enough force to make Stiles flail his arms to regain balance.

“My whole family was murdered in front of me, and my favorite color is blue too” he growled.  

Stiles felt guilt rippling through his body, but he pushed it down.   

“Yeah well, get over it. You’re not the only one to lose family.”

Derek’s body language closed off even more, arms instinctively crossing over his chest and his whole body shifting away from Stiles, but Stiles wasn’t going to stop now. _If Derek was so fucking terrible at sharing, maybe a little demonstration would do some good_.

Stiles sighed, gathering himself as he reined his temper in: his tone quieter and his brown eyes losing some of their usual spark. He looked far older than any 19-year-old should.

“I never had any siblings, but at least I had a family until my mom died. My dad tried his best, but he was never enough for me. After the funeral I told him I wanted a real family. I wouldn’t talk with him for a full week after he refused to go on a date with Mrs. McCall.”

Stiles paused for a moment, trying to gauge Derek’s response. After a few seconds of silence he continued, almost inaudibly.

“I used to fantasize every day that Scott and I would become brothers. I thought there was some cosmic order to things, you know? If you lose one family member you have to gain a new one.”  

 

His lips twitched slightly, brown eyes coming to rest on the upturned palms of his hands.

 

“I blamed my dad for being too weak to move on so I could have what I wanted.”

 

Stiles chuckled darkly to himself, tears stinging his vision.

What type of a shitty son does that make me?”

 

He fixed his eyes on Derek’s: vulnerable brown reaching out for reassurance -for comfort. There was a half-hearted plea caught in the warm amber of them, as if he expected Derek to connect over his vague past trauma, to reflect the pain so visible in Stiles, to make himself vulnerable in return. Only silence and Derek’s unnaturally calm expression answered him, that fucking brick wall of a personality that Stiles knew so well. He might as well have been having a conversation with himself.

Derek shifted his eyes away, and focused intently on the sheets he had wrinkled as he clutched his fists.

“You’re not the only one to lose family, Derek, or to try to push people away because of it.”

Derek’s jaw twitched, his eyes darkening dangerously, and for a second Stiles thought he was going to finally act on all of those threats that had accumulated over the years. Then Derek’s posture changed, the tension blowing out like a dam that had finally caved under the pressure of an unrelenting river, as his eyes took on that sad light Stiles had only seen once before, and suddenly Stiles was looking into a mirror instead of an unending dulled surface.   

“My favorite movie is X-Men, Cora and I used to fight about who would be Wolverine. I didn’t read often, but I cried over Call of the Wild. I like Hawaiian Pizza and I don’t give a shit if you think pineapple isn’t a real topping.”  Derek pushed each word out with emphasis, as if each syllable hurt him.

Stiles’s tongue caught in his mouth, so he just nodded. Derek sighed tiredly as he moved off the bed, throwing Stiles’s hiking boots at him.

“Let’s get ready”

Stiles nodded, still not trusting himself to talk entirely as he got up and pulled his boots on.

After he had finished lacing the shoes, he softly said “I’m sorry Derek, for being a dick.”

Derek eyed him wearily, clearly not ready for more emotions, before admitting “It’s fine. Anger is better than pity, plus it was worth incriminating myself about the pizza to see the look on your face.”

Stiles couldn’t help the way his lips twitched up in a smile at that.

“Yeah, well what type of weirdo thinks fruit is an acceptable topping for pizza?”

“One that could kill you in half a second with his hands tied behind his back” Derek replied, but there was no real venom behind the words.

Stiles chuckled and then asked, “Why did you get so defensive about what Mrs. Kohnstamm said?”

Derek paused and looked directly into Stiles’s eyes.

“Don’t push your luck Stiles”

“Whatever, sourwolf” Stiles smiled. “I’ll unlock your secret backstory yet, just you wait”

                                                                  *  *  *

 The hike was led by a woman who was the antithesis of Bethany. She never smiled once at any of the couples as they all slowly gathered at the meeting spot: a barely noticeable trailhead that jutted straight up a sun dried rock. Instead, she idly stood there in light of the setting sun, sharpening the head of her walking stick with the most dangerous looking knife Stiles had ever seen. She looked young and had a natural beauty about her: skin browned and freckles strew across her nose and cheeks from a life spent in the sun. She played with the knife with strong and callused hands that never wavered, stripping layers of wood as if she were cutting through butter.

 She stopped to push back a strand of loose hair that had escaped her ponytail, and Stiles noticed a small wolf tattoo inked onto her wrist. It was indescribably elegant, as if the ink had simply flowed onto her skin and stuck there rather than being pushed beneath the skin by relentless needles. Her nails were cut short, but sparkled in the sun with the burnt rose gold sparkles that adorned them. She caught Stiles staring and frowned, before finally informing everyone gathered that her name was Kenzy, and that if a rattlesnake bit someone not to panic unless it had a broad head: “if any of you die, it’s not my problem” she said gruffly, pushing her pocket knife back into its sheath and heading up the hill. Stiles loved her.

Derek also seemed to approve, as he appeared slightly less grumpy looming next to Stiles than usual, and even found hiking sticks for the both of them.

“Good to see you play fetch” Stiles teased him under his breath, and Derek glared daggers into the back of his head as they climbed in the unrelenting heat.

“Shut up, Stiles”

“What’re you gonna do about it? Murder your husband in the woods?”   

“Well, I am carrying your water bottle.” Derek said simply.

“You wouldn’t dare” Stiles gasped. “It’s like 150 billion degrees”

Suddenly the couples in front of Stiles and Derek gasped, jumping back slightly as Kenzy slashed her knife through an innocent bush without warning. She picked up the severed plant, holding it aloft like a war trophy and announced: “This is Bitterbush, and that is sage behind it,” gesturing her knife back behind her vaguely.

“Do any of you know what sage is used for?” she said without the slightest amount of hope in her eyes that anyone would answer.

“It was used for cleansing ceremonies by a majority of Indian Tribes. Smudging with sage was supposed to ward off evil influences and have healing properties” Derek said quietly.

Stiles nearly got whiplash as he turned around to look at Derek, his mouth gaping - just a little bit.

“Correct” Kenzy said, and her frown lessened a tiny bit. Stiles couldn’t tell if it was because he almost injured himself turning around and his pain had brought her momentary joy, or because Derek had known the answer.

“How did you even know that? Have you been keeping important supernatural information from me because I swear to Go-” Derek cut him off by rolling his eyes and grabbing his hand.

“Shut up, and listen to Kenzy, Stiles” he huffed.

Stiles squeezed Derek's hand as hard as he could, trying to get him to flinch but Derek didn’t even seem to notice. Stiles huffed, gave in, and let Derek lead him up the hill in silence, trying not to let himself enjoy holding hands with Derek Hale as Kenzy continued her explanation about different plants and their traditional uses.

“Sage is one of the four sacred herbs. The others are tobacco, sweetgrass, and cedar.” Kenzy monologued unenthusiastically to the group.

“Each one of them is supposed to help us find our direction as we navigate our way through the wheel of life. The legend goes that we are born in the east, make our way to the South by our teenage years and the West in our late adolescence. When we are old we end our journey in the North, and then return to the Spirit World to repeat the cycle. The sacred herbs act as a compass, to help reorient ourselves. That’s why the peace pipe was a thing”

No one seemed to really be listening, except for Derek who Stiles had never seen so engaged. His eyes were gleaming and it struck Stiles how young he looked as he listened to Kenzy talk about different legends and stories, all his angled lines and darkened shadows dissipating into a stunning smile that showed his bunny teeth. Stiles made a mental note to read up on some Native American Legends to tell Derek later.

About thirty minutes had passed before Kenzy finally let up the pace. The path had plateaued into a stunningly beautiful view, the gray dirt and sickly looking pine trees giving way to an expansive plain that spread out into a terracotta mesa of rock: imposing fractals of earth reaching up to scrape at the reddening sky.

A bit to the right of the mesa, a little river twisted across the plain, bending through gullies and behind the olive green of trees and brush. Stiles could feel the breeze on his face, warm but undeniably pleasant as the smell of the desert washed over him: dirt, and sage, and clay, mixing in with the scent of long dried out pine needles and petrichor. Crickets began to chirp lazily in the distance.

He closed his eyes and breathed it all in, letting the sun warm his upturned face, and relaxing as the wind swept across his chest, taking with it all the stress of the past few years and tossing it into the air. He had never felt more at peace...except he didn’t.

Stiles should have known better because he hadn’t had a moment of peace every since that night in the woods with Scott. He tried to ignore it, he really really tried to enjoy the sun, the view, and Derek, but despite his efforts he couldn’t shut out a nagging feeling in the very corner of his mind. Something was wrong, he was sure of it. He felt uneasy as looked out over the view, it felt familiar somehow, as if he had seen it before, but he couldn’t put his finger on where or when.

He practically jumped out of his skin when Derek come up behind him, resting his hand across his shoulder and looking out over the desert.

“Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me”

Derek appraised him with those sparkling green eyes, tinged a warm brown by the setting sun, and chuckled.

“I can be pretty stealthy when I want” he said proudly, and then a second later.

“Are you alright? You seemed a bit tense?”

Stiles paused for a second, “yeah, I’m fine. I don’t know, it’s probably nothing but I’ve got this weird feeling about this place, almost like I’ve been here before. Did Kenzy say anything important?”

Derek shook his head, eyes caught on Stiles. “It’s beautiful though. The view I mean”

“Yeah” Stiles said, an odd shiver going down his spine despite the scorching heat.

                   

                                                                     *  *  *

They kept on hiking for another two hours, twisting their way across the plain towards the mesa. The sun was more than halfway hidden by the horizon, and the sky had begun to burn into a dusk-tinged orange, lines of inflamed red and darkening blue layering across each other like the tall stone that lined the gully they walked through.

Kenzy had given up on talking to the group at all, and most of the couples had taken to complaining about various aspects of their life, and the hike, to themselves. Stiles had been abandoned by Derek, who was now engaged in a very intense conversation with Kenzy that somehow involved nearly only one-word answers from both sides:

“Are you Paiute?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Koso.”

“Cool.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and did what he does best: interjected himself into other people’s conversations.

“Soooo hate to break up this compelling discussion, but we’ve been on this hike WAY longer than it said on the pamphlet and it’s getting dark. Are we lost? Are we going to die? Are you planning to murder us, and if not where are you taking us?” Stiles asked rapid fire, before pausing. His entire body stilled as a realization came across his face, transforming his expression into something almost sheepish.  

“Also before you answer I just want to say that your knife is beautiful and I really hope you don’t kill me with it.”

Stiles gulped, as Kenzy fixed a glare on him that seemed to violate the very depths of his soul, and Derek arched his eyebrows in both disbelief and something that almost looked like endearment, the left corner of his mouth turning up slightly.

 

“Fine if you want me to ruin it I will. The star-gazing was meant to be a surprise.”

 

Stiles flailed his arms.

“Star-gazing? There wasn’t any mention of stars, or gazing for that matter!”  Slowly Derek’s eyebrows moved back down to their normal smoldering position.

 

Kenzy rolled her eyes before answering: “Bethany insists that each event have some secrecy, so you never really know what to expect. Also what the fuck did you think a night hike entailed?” she said flatly.

 

“Hiking...at night!” Stiles burst out.

“Also that’s exactly the type of excuse someone who wanted to mur-”

 

“Kenzy isn’t going to kill you Stiles.” Derek interrupted, patting Kenzy’s shoulder gingerly as if demonstrating that she wasn’t dangerous. She began to caress her knife with a smirk, and Derek glared at her.

“You sure about that, babe?” Stiles said, enjoying the look of uncertainty on Derek’s face.  

Before he could answer, the ravine they had been walking through opened up, the setting sun splashing its last bit of vibrant color across the rocks, and leaving with it a dark sky full to the brim with stars. Stiles gasped, taken aback by the sudden magnitude of wild openness and unrestrained nature in front of him. It felt like the first time he had ever seen snow: an immense awe reverberating through every neuron, carried on by an effervescent tide of excitement, pulling away everything dark and filling in all the broken bits until they were smooth.

He felt like he was eight years old again, staring up at the sky without a care in the world: silent and concentrated on the beauty in front of him. Stiles had never been one for silence, so it was no surprise when the awe wore off and the babbling began:

“It’s beautiful. I didn’t even know you could see so many stars in the sky at once. Isn’t there like a limit or something?”

“Shut up, Stiles” Derek said, though he too clearly was caught off guard, head craned backed as he watched the stars, his lips parted just slightly as if a little gasp had escaped him.

 

Stiles was about to talk again when Kenzy loudly spread out a rug across the dirt path, right next to an outcropping of rocks, it looked comfortable enough and the deal was sweetened when she explained that a car from the resort should arrive soon with food.

“Enjoy yourselves” Kenzy said as she walked away to help the other couples. She stopped about two steps away and clarified “not too much though.”

 

Stiles could hear the grin plastered on her face through her words. He rolled his eyes, a bit more color than he felt safe with flushing across his cheeks from her implication. Derek didn’t seem to notice, and instead sniffed the blanket suspiciously as he settled in, laying on his back with his hands laced behind his head before patting the spot next to him when Stiles remained standing.

 

“For the love of God lay down Stiles”

 

“Ehhh okay” Stiles said shuffling his feet as the familiarity of Derek’s pose bombarded him with memories: paralyzed and powerless as he fell on top of Derek, as his father was held at gunpoint, as the glowing eyes of the Kanima drew closer and closer. He flinched slightly, shrugging them off and breathing out as he used the stars to anchor himself to reality. _At least the blush was gone_.   

 

“Are you alright?” Derek was sitting up now, propped up by his ridiculously perfect arms.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

 

He fixed Stiles with a serious and unrelenting look, eyes gleaming in the dusk. Stiles fidgeted uneasily, one foot tapping up a hurricane of dust while his fingers twisted around each other.

_Derek was an ass._

“You know it’s really not fair how you can just silence me into talking. You’re exploiting my weakness, man.”

Derek remained silent, letting his eyebrow raise increasingly as Stiles spoke.

 

“Really, nothing to say? You’re not going to explain why you’re extorting a poor, helpless, and completely innocent nineteen-year-old boy?”

He just kept looking straight into his eyes, that serious look hardening his features.

 

“Fine! I give in, fuck you and your jaw-line.” Stiles sighed, before making eye contact with Derek again who hadn’t stopped staring the entire time.

“This is stupid, but the way you were laying, it just reminded me of the kanima. It’s stupid, I know.”

 

“It’s not stupid, Stiles” Derek said with absolute grave sincerity.

Then after a beat, “I got them too when I was younger.”

 

Stiles looked down at Derek his eyebrows creasing together with curiosity, and a slight tint of confusion.

 

“Got what?” He asked.

 

There was a momentary silence before Derek pinned him down with his eyes, dragging Stiles down by the hand until he was sitting cross-legged on the blanket across from him.

 

“Panic attacks” Derek clarified.

 

“I’m that easy to read, huh?” Stiles huffed out defeated.

 

“Well it helps that I can literally smell your emotions. Also you’ve got a very expressive face.” Derek offered almost apologetically.

 

He took Stiles's hands in his own, making eye contact that under different circumstances would have caused Stiles to jump his bones on the spot. Instead, Stiles just felt an easy warmth spreading out from the touch, up his forearms, and to his chest: a buzzing heat that both calmed and reoriented him. He sat like that for a while, enjoying the silence and the comfort of the physical presence of Derek playing with his fingers. A couple to the right of them made a chorus of “awwww” sounds at the sight, and Derek glanced down in embarrassment.

 

“How’d you do it? How do you stay so calm?” Stiles asked quietly.

 

Derek didn’t look away from Stiles’s hand as he answered.

“Whenever they’d happen I’d just focus on something simple, on something real.” Derek rubbed his thumb over the back of Stiles hand, pressing down with intention when he said “real”.

“But you already know that don’t you? You’ve got an anchor.”  

 

Stiles nodded, “I think about my mom. She always used to read me this book, The Giving Tree. I’m not sure if it’s one specific memory, or if it’s just a bunch mixed together, but I think about her reading it to me.”  

 

The wind made sad little melodies as it spread through the canyon and out across the expanse, rustling through the brush and dancing out towards the distant mountains.

 

“What’s yours?”

 

Derek didn’t respond for a good thirty-seconds, finally sighing as he let go of Stiles’s hand to lay back onto the blanket.

“Promise you won’t laugh, Stiles. Also don’t you dare tell anyone else in the pack” he threw his arms over his face.

 

“I won’t, and I won’t laugh, promise...unless it’s anime, or My Little Pony, or something like that.”

 

“Stiles my anchor isn’t anime.”

 

“Oh God, it’s Twilight Sparkle isn’t it?”

 

“Twilight-what? Shut up, Stiles.”  

 

Stiles threw himself down next to Derek on the blanket, wiggling himself until he was sufficiently comfortable, and earning an eye roll from Derek who still hadn’t worked up the courage to say anything. They remained like that for a few minutes, Stiles trying his best not to shift around too much.

 

“Remember how I was folding the shirts earlier?”

 

“Yeah”

 

“Yeah, well something about cleaning, just...just really relaxes me. Especially after the fire, it was something simple that I could achieve, a way to order something in my life.”

 

He paused, and then in almost a whisper: “My mom was always so messy, she counted on me to keep the house clean.”

 

Stiles was at a loss for words, so he just put his arm around Derek’s midriff and buried his head into his shoulder. Derek went stiff as a board.

 

“Stiles, what are you doing?”

 

“Hugging you. Now shut up and relax, hugs aren’t that bad.”

 

His muscles slowly relaxed, staring up at the sky in silence, though Stiles could still hear his heart beating abnormally fast.  

 

Stiles watched Derek's upturned face illuminated by the stars: thousands of isolated sparks -these inherently lonely creatures- separated by a sea of blue and black, stunning viewed from afar when the distance between them seemed to diminish so they shone together. His face relaxed, lips parted in a half smile, his heartbeat beginning to normalize with Stiles curled into his side. Maybe it was the starlight playing tricks on his vision, but Stiles swore Derek was smiling again, eyes wide and excited as he took in the view.

 

“You know I never really noticed the stars before. Lara wanted me to buy her a telescope for her thirteenth birthday, but I always thought she was just a nerd. I couldn’t afford one anyways, so I bought her a NASA t-shirt.” He paused, his eyes glinting as he got caught up in the memory.

“Now I get why she wanted one: they’re beautiful” Derek said, his smile solidifying in the little creases near the corners of his eyes.

 

“You know that’s the cutest thing I’v-”

Stiles suddenly broke off, his ears ringing and the stars above him beginning to blend into one white sheen. The wind picked up and the quiet melody turned to a disconcerting mass of sound. His fingers ripped into Derek’s shirt, terrified as he tried to remain conscious.

 

_He gasped as his vision went entirely white._

 

Stiles couldn’t feel his body, as if everything had gone numb, and the sides of his vision began to flicker from black to white and back again, slowly regaining his sight. He tried to get up but his stomach dropped and suddenly he felt the warmth from Derek fade away: his limbs hanging loosely as he floated an inch above his own body.

It wasn’t so much that he could see his surroundings, more that he just knew what was there, as if his field of vision had become a sphere instead of just straight ahead. He could see himself laying on the ground, eyes rolled back and back arched painfully while Derek was frantically trying to shake him awake. He tried to reach out, but the second he tried he felt a force pull him away, like a string had been tied around his core and yanked by a launching rocket: the scene fluctuating and melting around him until Stiles was jolted into an absolute stillness, standing in the center of the mesa of rock.

 

The stars were sparkling in the sky, the only light illuminating the dark cropping of rock, it’s edges dropping off suddenly into a black abyss that ended in the desert below, leaving a flat rectangle of rock for Stiles: he was trapped, balancing on the tiny patch of solid ground.

 

“Hello?”

 

Only the dulled hum of the wind answered him.

 

Then as if on queue, three outlines emerged from the dark: suspended just beyond the edge of the rock. Stiles couldn’t make out any details, not even clothing or height, it was only their outline where the light bent around their silhouettes: glimmering and refracted starlight angled around their centers, shadows a blacker void than the absolute night of the desert.

 

_They were silent._

 

Stiles was frozen in place by fear, it felt like his legs were made of lead. _Hold up, he could feel his legs again._

 

The figures continued to glide towards him, the sound of the wind becoming quieter and quieter as they circled around him, even the light of the stars began to dim.  

 

“STILES!”

 

The figures kept closing in, dulling reality within an ever decreasing radius.

 

“STILES, WAKE THE FUCK UP”

 

Stiles was petrified in place, he felt his whole body begin to burn, crackling tongues of invisible flame wrapping around his frame, pulling him apart. He could feel them looking at him, though they didn’t have a face or eyes, just the weight of their attention sickening him. Then a gentle rocking began near his shoulders. He tried to push it away in a panic, but the feeling became more and more aggressive. He could feel the outline of a palm on his shoulder. He could hear someone muffled calling his name.

 

“STILES”

 

Suddenly he sat bolt upright, slamming his head into Derek’s who was bent over him alongside two paramedics.

 

“Ow”

 

“Stiles! Stiles, are you okay?”

 

“Sleepy” Stiles breathed, as the paramedics began to load Stiles into the back of a car, tactfully allowing Derek to stay within reach. Derek’s eyes were wide, every muscle tight and bent as he slowly released his death grip from Stiles’s shoulder.

 

Before they could force Derek out of the back of the car, Stiles bolted straight up, surprising the paramedics as he wrapped his arms around Derek in a death grip, both arms wrapped tightly around his core with his head buried into the fabric of Derek’s shirt.

“Please Derek don’t let them take me. Please.”

“Who? Stiles? Stiles who tried to take you?” Derek pleaded, but Stiles was already fading back into unconsciousness, lulled by the weight of Derek.  He could hear his heart beating, he could feel him tense up, unsure if he should hug back or not. Stiles sighed out in relief, the panic slowly subsiding as he relaxed into Derek: he was in focus, he felt real. With that Stiles slipped back into unconsciousness, but this time it was black and gentle and so warm.

 


	3. The Hum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad you're all enjoying the fic so far. Feel free to leave comments and any speculations below, reading those definitely inspires me to keep the story engaging and to hopefully keep you guessing. 
> 
> Updates are soon to come :)

Stiles felt so incredibly warm, like he was just wrapped in a big heating pad from head to foot. Tension melted out of him: 

‘Uhnnnn”  

He knew the sounds he was making were probably pornographic, but he didn’t care. It just felt so good. He was floating, lifted up by some orgastic warmth and a pair of hands who rolled down every sore ligament, unrelenting. 

 

Stiles didn’t know exactly when, but stones had been placed on his back in a line, laid neatly against each vertebrate, and were just warm enough to send little ripples of heat through his muscles. Trihn digging her elbows into his shoulders didn’t help the moans any either. She seemed to be a very stern masseuse. Oddly enough, Stiles didn’t think he’d heard Derek make a single sound, in fact, he wasn’t even sure he was still breathing. The poor guy probably didn’t know how to relax. 

 

“You’re awfully silent there….ahhhhhh…. honey, even for you. You alright?” Stiles asked, muffled by the headrest and the moans he couldn’t help from slipping out. 

 

Derek sounded strained, “Yeah”  

 

Stiles couldn’t think of anything to reply with, because Trihn had just done something magical with her fingers. 

“oh God…..mnnnnnnnnnn” 

 

“Stiles, shut up”  

 

Stiles upped the moaning just to piss Derek off. 

“Ohhhhh god yeah, that’s the spot” 

Apparently, Stiles thought to himself, he liked the thrill of living on the brink of death, but I mean, that wasn’t new. 

 

“Stiles, stop”  

 

“What’s the…...mmmmmmmmmm…..magi…...oh god yes Trihn, keep that up….magic word, babe?” 

 

There was a noticeable pause. 

 

Stiles filled that silence with a porn worthy moan, a deep and guttural sound that explicitly conjured to mind an orgasm-face and then fully delivered on the fantasy with an eyes rolled back, mouth curled into an O, expression of bliss. Sadly, Derek couldn’t see that part, with his head buried deep in the headrest, and his hands gone completely white from the death grip he had forced his fists into. 

 

Trihn carried on unphased. 

 

Stiles let out a series of little whimpers, coming down from his fake orgasm. 

 

“ _ Please. _ ”  

Derek sounded as if he had, had to forcibly push the words through his gums and between his teeth with pure will power.  

 

Trihn stopped and slowly began removing the stones. 

 

“Hey, what are you doing? That felt great”  

Stiles swore he could hear Derek sigh in relief. 

 

Trihn announced that the massage was over and Stiles sighed deeply, slouching back into the table in semi-mock despair.  

 

“I take back everything nice I said about you...I thought what we had was special” 

 

_ There was a pause. _

Trihn and the entire scene seemed to freeze in place, but it was so fast Stiles wasn’t sure it had even happened. As if a video had been paused abruptly and then started again immediately, glitching sparking in the corners of the picture and in the slight dullness to her eyes.  

 

She pointed to her left and said with with obvious disinterest: 

 

“Your clothes are in the cubbies to your left.” 

“Take your time” 

She added as she left, leaving Stiles to remember he was alone with a very angry Derek, only wearing his boxers. He gulped, and began to do what he always did when he was nervous. 

 

“So that was amazing, and the stones were totally not moltant like I thought they would be. It was more like tiny little warming pads” Stiles began to ramble on as he got up from the table and made his way towards his clothing. He definitely wasn’t trying to flex every muscle in his core as he walked in front of Derek to scoop up his shirt, and Stiles certainly didn’t gasp as he strained his lats, trying to bend down while keeping his muscles rigid. 

Derek still hadn’t moved. He was taking long breaths as he laid completely still on the table, but when he heard Stiles gasp in pain, he jolted up. Awkwardly propped halfway up in some pseudo-upward-dog pose. It would have been exceptionally sexy: stoic tendons and long striations of muscle, arching into the vaulted ideal of masculine perfection; except, for the fact that Derek’s facial expression was that of someone who had just ran over a dog with their car, devoid of all color and filled with utter horror.  

 

“What’s wrong with you? We’ve got the couples session in twenty. Grab your damn shirt and let’s go.” Stiles encouraged, making sure to point exaggeratedly at the clothing folded neatly inside the cubby.  

 

“I can’t right now, Stiles” 

 

“What do you mean you can’t? Move your big bad Alpha ass off the table. One foot in front of the other, easy!”  

 

“I’ll be right behind you, just go ahead” 

 

Stiles huffed and rushed forward grabbing Derek’s hand and tugging him half-way off the table. 

 

“Not going out there with all the fucking Plastics without my husband to prote…..”  

 

Stiles looked down just as Derek’s hands flew in front of his crotch, his ears reddening and his cheeks flushed. 

 

“Oh…..sorry...I didn’t mean to...er...uh” 

 

Stiles was trying really hard (oh God) not to look down again, and knew he was in dangerous risk of rambling on about how it was perfectly normal to get excited from physical contact. Unless….had he actually gotten to him with his show? That was impossible, right? Only in his dreams could he have turned on Derek Hale, the man who had fucked his evil English teacher, and who could no doubt drop panties by the dozens with on arched eyebrow?

A noise saved him from his thoughts, slowly coming into focus, though he was sure it must have been there the whole time: a deep and disconcerting frequency. It was low, almost indiscernible, but it was there nonetheless as a constant hum in the background. He tried to focus in on it, to pinpoint and classify it. The noise got louder and louder, the pitch rising higher and higher. 

 

_ Someone was screaming.  _

 

Both Stiles and Derek bolted into action, following the screams as they ran down a hallway and into the room at the end of the hall. Derek was fully clothed somehow, odd and Stiles couldn’t remember how they had gotten into the hallway in the first place. That didn’t matter now though, the door was already open, and the screaming hadn’t stopped yet. It was awful, the sound echoed oddly in the hallway as it resonated, desperate, and rising in frequency before oddly dampening into a horrible still and silent hallway. The hum hadn’t faded though, it was still there, beating unnoticed in the background. 

 

As soon as they entered the room Stiles felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, and he could see Derek’s eyes glow red. The masseuse was frozen in place behind the massage table her mouth still forced open from the scream that had long faded, tears slid down her cheeks and her body was shaking, but she didn’t move, not even to blink. She was alone in the room besides her client who was laying face first on the table. 

 

_ The scene froze. _

 

It was quick, only for a second, but Stiles was positive this time, and now there was something else in the room with them. Something umbral hanging behind the masseuse’s right shoulder: a spot that didn’t exist, suspended in some unnatural rotation, as it’s presence folded back into itself. Stiles realized he couldn’t move. He just watched as the man on the table was slowly lifted into the air, drooping as if his body was held up by strings, wrists bent in tension while the rest of him fell slack as the natural laws of the universe tried desperately to pull him back down to the table. He rotated towards them, crucified by nothing but that gently lapping force, the skin near his eyes seemed sunken in, fallow and paper thin, in the dim lighting. 

 

_ The hum continued. _

 

Stiles tried to breath, but couldn’t. Every muscle in his body spasmed, tightening, as the vibration began, muting out all other sound. The room began to feel charged, and Stiles’s chest tightened painfully. He still hadn’t breathed, and his body was beginning to ache. He couldn’t even blink. Stiles felt a presence reach out: slowly, like tiny waves spreading out further and further.  

 

_ His vision shifted. _

 

The rocks that had been placed on the man’s spine during the massage fell out of his core in a perfect line, one-by-one like dominos, from his stomach to his throat, leaving a vertical stripe of uneven holes. Stiles could see right through him, revealing a lovely vase filled with flowers placed on the table behind him as the stones sizzled red hot on the floor. 

Then the presence was gone. Stiles breathed, the masseuse started to scream, and Derek tackled Stiles out of the room, lifting him into his arms and running back towards the main desk.

 

* * *

Stiles blinked a few times, gradually becoming aware of how warm he was. His head felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it, as the memories from the hike smashed back into him. There was a weight over his midriff, gentle but insistently possessive. Derek let out a muffled grunt as Stiles heart began to beat more loudly, readjusting his arm to pull him a few inches closer. Stiles gulped. He knew it meant nothing, cuddling in your sleep was a natural human response, and werewolves were especially tactile: a little something he had discovered after Scott had practically molested him one full moon when they were watching Disney movies together. 

“I love you bro. I just want you to know that” he had said with those big brown eyes fixed meaningfully up at him as he wrapped his arms around Stiles and sighed contentedly. Stiles hadn’t had the heart to make him move, even though Scott was a million degrees, and still smelled like sweat from practice. 

Stiles also knew he shouldn’t let Derek continue, but he was a weak, weak, weak and pathetic man. He let Derek hold him to his chest, let their breath synch naturally together, surrendering to the organic gravity of lying nestled against Derek, the weight of his body creating a natural divet: easy to fall into and never leave. 

Stiles was jolted fully awake by a banging at their door. He quickly slipped out of Derek’s hold before he could fully wake up. If Stiles could save someone from embarrassment he would. Derek looked bewildered as he stretched his arms above his head, yawning. 

The knocking continued and Stiles sighed, twisting to shove his head underneath the pillow. Derek slowly made his way to the door, shirtless and wearing only the plaid flannel sleep pants Stiles had insisted he buy the night before they had left for the trip. “If we’re sleeping together you best be cozy as fuck” Stiles had told him. He turned back to Stiles before he opened the door. 

“Stay in bed. The paramedics said you were severely dehydrated and needed rest.” With that he turned back to the door and swung it open.  

 

“Oh Mr.Hale... hi” Bethany's voice floated across the room to Stiles, making him jolt up suddenly from the cover of his pillow: a bad decision with his headache still in full force. She was blushing again, just barely visible behind Derek's silhouette who just stood there bleary eyed and silent, waiting for her to say something. 

“Joel and I are coming around and waking everyone up, we’ve got a little surprise planned” a smile crept into her eyes, the type of mischievous smile that comes before you give your best friend a gift you know they’ll love. 

“Meet up in the Mess Hall in twenty. Oh, that is if your husband is feeling better of course.” and with that Bethany turned on her heels and left. 

 

It had been five minutes since Bethany left, but Stiles still felt incredibly uneasy, and not just from how ridiculously perky Bethany was. Derek was in the kitchen making coffee, still clearly not awake, and while he seemed worried about Stiles’s health he wasn’t as stressed or on edge as usual. Stiles just sat up in bed, thinking and kneading the blankets with his fists.     

“Derek” 

“Yeah?” 

“I had a really weird dream last night” he shuddered involuntarily.

 

“hmmm?” 

 

Derek paused and then said a bit more earnestly.

 

“Please don’t explain your entire dream, Stiles. You already read me several excerpts from your dream journal on our way here, and that was punishment enough” 

 

Stiles started to feel sick, he could still feel that awful lingering presence, but the dream was beginning to slip away, to become hazy. 

 

“Derek, come on my dream journal is compelling reading, and this is important.” 

 

Despite his concentration, the dream kept slipping away, the memories fading quickly. He could feel the significance, the weight of it, on the tip of his tongue but he couldn’t get the words to form. Derek had come out of the kitchen and was looking at him, waiting patiently for Stiles to get his thoughts out.  

 

“Dammit! It’s really fucking important, it’s not something you easily forget...it’s...it’s...the massage!” 

 

“Stiles, you sold me on the massage during the hike, you wouldn’t shut up about it. You don’t need to keep trying to convince me, it’s scheduled for tomorrow night.”  Derek called over his shoulder as he returned to the kitchen. 

 

Suddenly the memories hit him, the endless Scott-copyrighted-puppy-dog-eyes he’d leveled against Derek and the continuous raised eyebrows he’d gotten in return. It’d taken him some time, but by the first lookout point Stiles had gotten him to cave: Derek rolling his eyes one last time before giving in. 

 

“Fine, just shut up. We’ll do the fucking couple’s massage if it’ll make you happy.” 

 

He’d finally conceited, looking tenfold grumpier than usual. 

 

The potency of his memory settled into Stiles, the sense of urgency vanishing completely out of him. The last bit of the dream fading as his stomach dropped, and with that Stiles was standing up and running to the bathroom. He thought he was going to be sick.

He tried to remember exactly what had happened last night with Derek, but the harder he tried to concentrate on the memories the more intense his headache became: the hike, the stars, Derek looking panicked as his vision had filled up with a buzzing dark. His headache intensified.

He splashed cold water across his face, but it did nothing, he still felt weighed down and clammy. The room was getting smaller and smaller, the walls closing in, and this time he didn’t have Derek there to calm him. To make unrelenting eye contact. He took a deep breath, picturing the way the light had caught the specs of color that first morning: blue and green and incessantly grounding. 

Stiles looked at the mirror and into his own eyes. He’d always loved his eyes, they were colored like sunlight that had refracted through amber, unmistakably warm. He’d even gotten a few compliments on them, from his dad, from Scott, from random girls, but not from the people that mattered: never from Lydia…. or Derek (fuck). But now, standing in front of the mirror, there was something cold behind them: dark circles and a dimness that scared him shitless. What was wrong with him? He’d always took pride in being witty and sharp, always ready to snark and be an grade A dick, but now he felt dull. Was he finally going insane? Had all the supernatural crime fighting finally caught up with his weak, none-werepowered ass? 

He blinked, and suddenly Derek was standing by the door, a cup of coffee held in his hand and his hair still endearingly disheveled. 

 

“I made you coffee” He said simply. 

 

He held the cup out, waiting. Stiles just stared at him and his outstretched hand. When the fuck had Derek become so considerate? Maybe it was just to make sure Stiles didn’t faint again. 

“You want it or not?” He tilted his chin towards the coffee with clear annoyance when Stiles still hadn’t moved. 

“Thanks” Stiles finally said as he reached out and took the cup. He took a sip and instantly felt better, warmth and bitterness sharpening him. He sighed in relief. 

 

“You smell weird again” Derek said as he walked out of the bathroom, and Stiles suddenly remembered an article he had read once about dogs that had been trained to detect chronic illness in people. Apparently, their pheromones changed when they were sick, it made them smell different.   


	4. Capture the Flag - Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,  
> I apologize for the massive delay in posting. I was burnt out and didn't want to half ass this by trying to write more of the fic without having any passion behind it, but I'm back and will be posting regularly again.  
> Hope you enjoy this short update.  
> -Tyler

 

 

* * *

 

Bethany’s surprise was far worse than Stiles anticipated, but it was okay because she had forced Derek to wear a cowboy hat.  
“Okay here’s all your gear” Bethany had said, beaming as she dropped a box in front of Stiles and Derek that looked like it belonged in a High School Drama Department storage closet. She’d picked the hat out immediately, and placed it on Derek’s head.

"We’re gonna play a game of Capture the Flag! Couples will be on the same team of course, we want you to learn to play together. We’ll start with two groups of six couples each.”  
Everyone looked half asleep, and no one was listening. They all chatted amongst themselves as Bethany desperately tried to get their attention so she could explain the rules. Everyone just kept talking.

Suddenly Derek spoke, scaring the shit out of Stiles who admittedly was still fantasizing about a room filled with endless pillows.  
“Listen up”  
It was barely above his regular speaking voice, and Stiles didn’t think there was any way the couples could even hear him over all their chatter, but whatever vibe Derek was putting out worked. The rest of the couples naturally turned towards Derek, as if it were the simplest decision in the world, stopping their discussions short. Bethany mouthed thank you, as the couples gathered into a loose circle around her. She happily explained the rest of the rules complete with enthusiastic hand gestures.

“Fucking alpha were-powers” Stiles muttered under his breath.

“I’m just a natural born leader. You jealous?” Derek smiled blindingly.

“Bullshit, you’re just the tallest here, first thing people look at, nothing more. Also fuck you, at least I don’t have to wear a stupid hat. You look like an extra in an old Western”  
Derek was doing his best to look hurt, as he guided Stiles away from the circle and over towards the box.

“I thought you said your lifelong kink was to fuck a cowboy?” he said as he handed Stiles a pair of cheap handcuffs and a sheriff's badge. Stiles opened his mouth, but no words came out; he just kinda let it hang open. Okay he definitely was going insane, or dying, but he was 100% sure that Derek had just flirted with him. Was that a bromance type of flirt? What was happening?

“Sheriff” Derek added with a smirk as he tipped his hat and went back to join the circle gathered around Bethany

“What am I even supposed to do with these?” Stiles grumbled to himself, poking the handcuffs gingerly as if they’d bite him. Derek fucking heard him though, he was sure of it from the little upward curl of his lips.  
‘Fucking werewolves” Stiles muttered pointedly in Derek’s direction as he attached the cuffs to his left side of his pants by the loops on his jeans.

  
*  *  *

The theme of the game apparently was Cowboys-and-Indians, because it was classic Western or some shit, but Stiles didn’t mind too much anymore: Derek had made him sheriff.

“I’ll let you all appoint team captains and figure out your strategies. Game starts in fifteen! Oh and look the part, there’s plenty of props” Bethany called over her shoulder as she walked off towards the treeline that marked the “Indians” territory.

“I think the tall hot one should be captain. He’s so commanding”

Stiles whirled around to see the flirtatious and smiling face of a girl he was pretty sure was named Autumn. She was 5’8, and built like a porn star who loved olympic weight-lifting in her spare time. Autumn, what a fucking annoying fake ass name, was wearing a bright pink running bra and black - she insisted they were Onyx not black - yoga pants that settled just below her belly-button, exposing enough stomach to make everyone stare at least once. She playfully punched Derek’s arm.

“Captain” she smiled as she tossed her ponytail behind her left shoulder.

‘I’m glad you met my husband” Stiles said, doing his best to sound playful and casual while still glaring daggers into Autumn’s head. He had little success.

“Tsssskkk my bad Mr. Sheriff. I promise I’m a good girl, no need to handcuff me, I’m just introducing myself.” She held her hands up in mock surrender. Then more quietly, as she grabbed Stiles bicep and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“I’d let you put those handcuffs to good use” She winked at Derek and sprinted off into position, leaving Stiles with his mouth gaping open, trying to think of some great snapback. No inspiration came. Instead the hair on the back of his neck began to tingle, a low barely audible sound was emanating from besides him: Derek was growling, Derek was fucking growling and his hands were clenched into fists as he watched Autumn bounce off a few yards towards her husband.

“Whoa there. Calm down, dude.” Stiles said grabbing his forearm reassuringly. Derek wasn’t calming down, he still looked pissed. Stiles stood in front of him.

“Hey, look, look at me. You can’t just go around murdering random girls for hitting on me. You nearly got into a fistfight with the Kohnstamms, let’s not repeat that.” Stiles whispered.

Derek was still locked onto Autumn as she chatted with the other couples as everyone got props from the box.

“Why not?” Derek snapped, suddenly making eye contact with Stiles.

“It’s not very polite? Stiles said as he jingled the handcuffs.

“Plus I’m the sheriff, I’d have to lock you away” That seemed to lighten the mood and Derek relaxed the smallest possible amount, regaining control.

“Alright, Sheriff ” Derek said under his breath and then more loudly:  
“Let’s go, everyone huddle up”

Everyone gathered around Derek, and Stiles tried not to look impressed as Derek split everyone effortlessly into offensive and defensive squadrons. God he was hot when he got commanding, Autumn had gotten that one thing right.


	5. Capture the Flag - Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,  
> Here's the second installment of chapter 4. A warning before you start this chapter, it has a very dark scene towards the end with explicit gore. If you've read this far in the fic it's nothing more gruesome than what you've already read. Hope you all enjoy, the fluffy parts and emotional scenes will be in Chapter 6.

* * *

 

Stiles was standing in the forest, idly hiding behind the tree-line in an attempt to scope out the field and potentially find the Indian’s flag; it had been almost twenty minutes since the game began. The sun had gone behind the clouds and the sage rattled solemnly around him with the gentle breeze that slid by. Stiles subconsciously hovered his fingers along the fake handcuffs on his hip as he crept along, cringing when they rattled noisily during his “stealth” mission.

Derek of course was nowhere to be found. His useless husband had immediately ran off into the woods the second the game had began and Stiles hadn’t seen him sense. He was probably terrorizing Autumn by now, Stiles couldn’t help smiling a bit at the image of Autumn’s tight yoga pant clad ass scampering in fear away from a smoldering -hopefully growling- Derek.

A twig snapped and Stiles twirled around, eyes wild and ready to go, but there was nothing except an unperturbed chipmunk, sitting on a fallen log with it’s tail twitching angrily. It eyed Stiles suspiciously before running off. Stiles breathed a sigh of relief and suddenly a couple he didn’t recognize burst out from behind two trees with an admittedly intimidating cry and Apache war paint smeared across their offensively pale faces.

Stiles reacted quickly and easily, dodging the women's first swipe at the flag attached to his belt, shimmying to the side at the last second, but he knew there was no way he could hold them both off. He was determined to take out at least one of them before they got him, and was about to lurch forward on his suicide mission when suddenly there was a thud and Derek landed behind the shocked couple, grabbing both of their flags with one smooth movement and an apologetic smile. The women nearly swooned and her husbands brow furrowed:

“Where the fuck did you even come from?” he asked incredulously.

Derek just raised his eyebrows vaguely, and walked over to put his arm around Stiles.

“You did a great job being bait, babe” he said surreptitiously.

Stiles groaned, “why do I always have to be the maiden in distress. Why can’t I jump in and save your ass for once?” Stiles played along, wanting the couple to believe that Derek jumping in to save him had been their master plan all along. It was the only thing keeping his fragile ego intact.

“Because you’re cuter than I am. You make better bait” Derek said without hesitation. He put his arm around Stiles and pulled him into what must have looked like an endearing side hug. The man and his wife huffed in announce and began to slink away until Stiles suddenly cleared his throat:

“Um the prison is that way. Next to the tree stump. Right then a left; you got it!” They glared at him but walked away towards the prison.

Derek turned around, his eyes looking at everything besides Stiles. “Listen, I’ve been doing some thinking during the game-”

Stiles interjected “Awww what an adorable predator. The ‘hunt’ of capturing the flag really got your wolfy introspective juices flowing, eh? Do some good brooding too?”

“I personally like to do all my brooding in the forest, so yeah Stiles.” Derek looked dead serious.

“I realized we need to be more cautious, I don’t like the vibe I’m getting from this place, or the people, and the event from last night; you need to tell me exactly what happened.” He moved a millimeter closer to Stiles, he was sure of it, the corners of Dereks eyes creasing with concern and sparking with an emotion Stiles couldn’t completely understand: unknown in the complex mixture of feral origin and restrained sentience. It washed over him, and he felt safe.

* * *

 

They had been walking through the forest together undisturbed for about ten minutes, not a single other couple in sight. The game was still going on, right? At least he assumed it was, he had no idea how Bethany proposed to notify everyone once the game was over anyways. Derek hadn’t said much after that, choosing to walk just a bit too close in front of Stiles so that he had to tread carefully for fear of stepping on Derek’s heels.

Suddenly Derek stopped, and Stiles slammed right into his back nose landing firmly into the muscles of Derek’s rock hard shoulders.

“Ow. What the fuck Der?” But then he heard it: the screams of pleasure, the moaning, grunted encouragements of “fuck”, “Steve, oh fuck” and deeper sounds of orgasm that barely sounded human. Derek stood stock still, shielding Stiles from whatever was in front of them, but being the curious person he was Stiles couldn’t help but look. God he wished he hadn't.

There was a brunette girl, completely naked, laying on her back. Petals from the flowers in her disheveled hair falling to the forest floor as the man thrust into her; a deep and primal movement drawn forward by tense clusters of sinew that flowed and coiled in the air. Her lips puckered and plumped by the blood that slid down from her eyes and ears, the rhythm of his thrusts rippling through her: tender waves of flesh propagating through curves and sprayed legs. They were suspended in the air, locked together in a cloud of sound that ebbed and flowed in intensity, as they unraveled: literally. Their eyes had long sense liquified and spilled down their faces, leaving black sockets and streaks of red, and blood poured from their ears and pooled into the concave divots of their clavicles. The man, still deep inside her, bent sightlessly to her chest and drank with rhapsody from the liquid pooled there. Straightening his back with a sickening shiver as he came, an absolutely peaceful smile spreading across his lips as their heads lolled back into empty space. Their mouths still open in pleasure, whimpering moans of residual desire drowned out more and more by fluid that welled up from deeper and deeper in their throats.

They stepped out from the shadows of the trees then, as the married couples euphoria began to sputter out as they lay suspended dying, nine eclipsed figures spaced equidistant from each other as they flowed forward in unison, stretching their umbral limbs up and out to support the bodies as they slowly descended back towards the earth and into the arms of the circle of beings. The scene was almost gentle, like coming back to the outstretched arms of your family, looks of absolute peace and bliss spreading across the pale features of the couple, the blood oxidizing into dark brown bubbles on their cheeks.

Stiles felt faint, and his stomach was queasy, but a strange reverberation deep in his bones kept him from being debilitated; his legs felt oddly sturdy and his frame felt stronger than before, the smell of O-Zone filled his nose sending tingles of energy bursting through him. He was more alert and alive than he had been in ages. The sensation was euphoric, rising to a climax within his core as the bodies were lowered closer to the ground. Stiles knew that teenage hormones could be crazy things, but he suddenly had a full hard on and that seemed really, really fucked up given what he’d just observed. He couldn’t help it though, his heart was racing and his pupils began to dilate as arousal rushed through him, his breaths becoming more raspy and heavy with each passing second. Derek turned around wide eyed and terrified, he grabbed Stiles in his arms, slinging him over his shoulder and sprinting back towards where Bethany was. If he noticed Stiles’s state he didn’t make any comment, although between the way he had positioned Stiles and the constant bouncing motion of Derek running, he must have.


End file.
